


Anna - The Gift of A Soul

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: General, Multi-Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2002-12-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 06:47:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4212028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another product of my Sauron-fixation, featuring theories about Ainur souls and behavior that could be interpreted as slash. Three Ainur tell a story to three silent listeners, who just happen to be Nienna, Gandalf and Frodo (who thinks it is nightmares). Finally edited  into comprehensible format.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: The Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

A fanfiction based on books by J.R.R Tolkien. Not connected to my other fanfiction, contradicts Nár Tinwen.

By Arwen Imladviel

\--->Valinor-beyond-the-sea, the land of life and plenty. Who could miss anything here? Yet I miss. I miss those who were separated from us by the width of sea and world. One in particular, one who shall never come here and dance for me under Yavanna's trees. Oh, Anna! The fire in her hair, the fire in her heart, it burned me, marking me hers. But she would not be mine, and I would be wiser if I made myself forget her. But then I would believe what the others believe about her, those lies and half-truths.

It is my duty to guard the truth, even though few listen to me. You listen, Olórin, and I thank you for it. You always listened, and your long toil has not changed you in that aspect. So let me tell you the story of Anna, and let us see if there is something in it that even you did not know.

Who was Anna? The music she made you remember, how it began full of joy and passion, rich and airy and then deep... oh, it brings me pain to remember it. But you remember it. The name she was called means Gift. A gift from Eru. She was a maker of things, in service to Aulë. She made beautiful things... it brings me unbearable pain to look at those which remain unto this day.

One time Anna asked me:   
'Who do you think is the fairest of the valier?' I knew she wanted me to say it was Yavanna, whom she adored, but I am always honest.   
'My lady Varda is.' 'Is she the fairest of all Eä?'   
'Fairest of Eä?' I asked, wary.   
'Yes! Who is it?' And I knew from the way her blue eyes looked at me that she wanted me to name herself the fairest of Eä.   
'That I cannot say, for Eä contains all its past and all its future, and I haven't seen most of those.' 'Then someone could become the fairest... sometime in the future.' And Anna walked away from me, deep in thought.

As the world grew older, Anna grew stranger. She said things she didn't mean, and asked questions with no answers. She began to gather secrets like a bird would gather twigs to make a nest of them. She gave things secret names, and spoke incomprehensible words. She made hiding-places for herself and often disappeared into them. And then she started complaining. She was not satisfied with the colours of flowers, nor with the shapes of stones. She seldom smiled those days. She stopped laughing altogether. But neither did she cry. Her face was not like the face of a living being, her skin and hair lost all colour. She was a shadow, a hollow echo of her previous self.

I braced myself and went to talk to her. We had, after all, been friends. And more: I had kissed her once, though she had run away after that. But friends we had remained, and I had taught her the use of weapons.

'What ails you, Anna?'   
'Go away, Eönwë.'   
'I am worried for you.'   
'You are just curious. You want to tell my secrets to everyone.'  
'No, I want to help you.'   
'Well, you can't. No-one can.' Suddenly something overflowed inside her and she started crying, sobbing softly, without making a noise.   
'I am in love, Eönwë!'   
'Is that not a good thing?'   
'No. Not when it is him.'   
'I see. Your heart desires someone you cannot have, for he has found love in someone else's arms.'  
'No. He has no-one, as far as I know.'   
'Then what is the wall between you, that you cannot go to him and confess your love? You have never been shy, Anna dear; has love made you a timid mouse? You who used to be like a dancing flame.'   
'The wall, as you say it, is my lowly station.'   
'I would not call you lowly; most the Maiar have less power than you do.'   
'That is just it.'  
'Now I do not understand.'   
'He is not a Maia!' Anna covered her face with her hands in shame and despair. I was silent for a long time.   
'I think you have to get over it. Ulmo is not the kind of lord who...'   
'It is not Ulmo.' 'Who, then? All the other valar have a spouse and you said he has none...'   
'You have to understand me. I do not want to be like him, I do not want to give myself to him, but I think my love would change him. And I cannot stop loving him. His music... I loved his music. He has talent to do a lot of good.'   
'I do not understand, Anna. Who are you talking about?' She looked deep into my eyes and smiled.  
'It is Melkor. Eönwë, I am in love with Melkor.' I could find no words. I wonder now would things have been different if I had said something just then, something to turn her head. But I guess no- one could have turned her heart. But I could have at least told her not to call him Melkor.

Things stayed calm for some time, with Anna waning slowly and steadily into a wraith. I kept her secret; this, too burdens my conscience these days. The few things she made were colourless and hard. Then came the moment she was there no more, and would not come back, and not even Oromë's hunt could find her. She was lost to the shadows in the northern forests, where predators prowled the darkness under leafless trees, and ghastly creatures sat watching in the branches. Her scent was lost among the smells of swamp and rot, and the tracks she had made went round in circles until they disappeared. Anna was gone. And I knew she had gone of her own free will. She had gone to the Enemy.

That is where all the other stories end. They say Anna was lost in the woods. Some say she came back later, as a wood-spirit, to dance on starlit glades. Some say her bones rest in a secret grove. Some say she turned into a tree like Yavanna whom she admired, but did not know how to turn back again. I know better, for I met her. 


	2. Chapter Two: The Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another product of my Sauron-fixation, featuring theories about Ainur souls and behavior that could be interpreted as slash. Three Ainur tell a story to three silent listeners, who just happen to be Nienna, Gandalf and Frodo (who thinks it is nightmares). Finally edited into comprehensible format.

What is it that you look at, from your windows that see into the void? Do you listen for my voice, or for someone else's? My voice is what you will hear, if you listen at all, for there are none here but myself; so I have none to talk to but you. Nienna, would you shed a tear for me? If not, mourn at least for the one that loved me.

In a glade I met her, a whisper in the air. She had a form I found pleasant, though she seemed weak and overly burdened. I announced my presence to her, and she looked up to me with a feeling that utterly surprised me - delight. She had run from my creatures, hid from my servants, yet she feared me not. Did she not know who I was? Had the terrors of the night driven her insane? I approached her.  
'Know that I am Melkor, Lord of Arda.' Now she trembled visibly.  
'I am a butterfly drawn to the flame, a moth lured by the heat. My name is Anna.'  
'Which flame do you seek, little Gift?'  
'Yours, my lord. For I love you.'  
'Then let me take you home with me.' I would never have thought to call Utumno 'home', but she obviously could think of it as one. I gave her the same food I ate myself, and we drank mead from the same cup. I was intrigued by her, and by the feeling she called love. Soon the mead fogged her head, and I found ways to enjoy her love. I know not if she enjoyed it, that first time, but I think she did. I played her like an instrument, bending instead of breaking, using tension to make music. I think I have never before and never after received such a gift.

I soon grew bored of her, following me like a shadow, asking questions about everything she saw. It came to my head that she might be a spy sent by my enemies, so I found it wiser to capture her in a set of rooms. These were good rooms, they had been built for me, and the door opened to my bedroom. I visited her quite often, and it seemed to me she anticipated my visits with desire: always, when I entered her presence, her hair was aflame and her clothing shone, but as I made to leave, she clung to me as a desperate wraith.

I soon understood she was little pleasure and less use that way. Things would have to change. I had not commanded her once, I had not had her call me master. Instead, she still called me 'love'. I knew it was time to use that love for a purpose.

'Anna. I have come to demand you the price for what you have received for me.'  
'What price is that, my love? Have I not already given you myself?'  
'I command that you must give me a son.'  
'But, my love, we are ainur both, and the ainur cannot breed: the number of the souls of our kind is finite.'  
'You must find a way, or die.'  
'I will try, my love, my lord.' Still she named me her love, despite the doom I had put on her.

I soon noticed the change in Anna. She grew more beautiful and burning, as her stomach grew. But as I touched her womb with my mind, I met no soul there. I asked her about this.  
'Our baby will be born soul-less, but born he will be.'  
'No-one can live without a soul.'  
'I will give him my soul in my milk.'  
'You will die for him?' I had not planned for this.  
'For you, my love, that you could have what you desire. Our son shall live on for me.'  
'I hope our son is as faithful to me as you have been... my love.' She kissed me for that, and I realised it might be the last time anyone ever kissed me with love.

The boy was born in the middle of a storm, and Anna wished I would be present when he came to the world. I lifted him from his mother's womb, and he did not cry. Anna put him on her breast, and he drank. Anna grew pale and silent. In her last breath she spoke:  
'I love you, my son, and I would name you Sauron.' Then she was dead. The child now began to cry. Anna's corpse turned into ashes, and the child lay in a bed full of ash and bellowed its little lungs inside out. Slowly I picked my son up.

I gave him to my servants to clothe, feed and raise. Sauron had indeed inherited his mother's unquestioning faith in me. He worshipped me as soon as he learned to speak. He grew fast, from the toddler that played at my feet to an active boy running around and shouting, to a man-child trying to lift a sword too heavy for his years. He had a passion for weapons, and their use seemed to come to him naturally, without teaching. This put me on my guard; I feared he would use those blades and those skilled hands against me. But when he looked at me his eyes held no secrets. The only thing I found strange about him was his disinterest towards the female spirits who served us.

'Sauron son of Melkor. Approach.' My voice thundered across the hall, and he walked to me in a formal pace. He was armoured from head to toe, with a black cloak over it all, a heavy broadsword hanging from his belt, and numerous other weapons doubtless concealed around his armour. He was a handsome sight, and my heart swelled of pride.  
'We are about to go to war.'  
'I know, master.' That was his name for me, and it pleased my ears. 'We will crush the valar with our first blow, make a swift retreat and a successful defence. Any questions?'  
'How are we going to crush them?'  
'We will break their precious torches, Illuin and Ormal that pain my eyes.' He laughed then, and I with him. How sure we were of our victory, how carelessly we planned our defences, how little we questioned our plan's wisdom. Would that I could live those times yet again! Much would be different.

Break the lamps we did. And our escape was well hid...

Am I turning into a poet? Eru be merciful - but he isn't, not for me. I trust you tell no-one of my embarrassment, Nienna dear, for you are not one fond of laughter. As I said, our escape was covered by the fire that spread from the broken orbs and the havoc it caused. We returned to Utumno victorious and proud. Middle-Earth was ours; the valar ran from us and dwelt in the West. My might grew and my servants gathered strength, but one they always held in respect beside me was Sauron. He was a glorious one, bold in battle, wise in tactics, handsome to look at, a tall warrior cloaked in starless night, with a voice like the heart of a volcano. As I prepared for a possible attack from the West, he suggested that I build a fortress in the western part of Middle-Earth. I did so, named it Angamando, and appointed Sauron as its commander. I saw in his deep blue eyes that he dared to be displeased with my order; he would have preferred to stay close to me. But I had made my decision, and I think I was so adamant because I actually feared him a bit those days.

Then came the new stars in the skies, and I realised times were changing. I had sent my minions to search the lands, and so I was the first to learn of the Quendi. I saw the fragile, innocent beings held potential, so I invited them to join my forces. Some came, and I soon saw their souls were almost incapable of following me. So I practically extinguished the fires that shone inside them, which left the bodies, alive, completely in my power with little more mind than animals. That was the best result I could have hoped for, and I began the slow shaping of the Orcs.

How this must burden you with horror, silent Nienna! Virgin Nienna! Yet I cannot pity you unless you pity me first. It is I who am prisoned in darkness and you who live in freedom and peace. Speak to me, if you wish me silent. Can you not see how it pains me not having anyone speaking to me? I think you can. So drop this burden of silence and let me hear your voice once more!

You know of the war and the humiliation that became my share as Tulkas imprisoned me, and you know also that for all their prowess the valar and their servants could not capture Sauron. I thought my tale would end there and then, but I actually found a spark of comfort in the thought that my son would follow my footsteps.  



	3. Chapter Three: The Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another product of my Sauron-fixation, featuring theories about Ainur souls and behavior that could be interpreted as slash. Three Ainur tell a story to three silent listeners, who just happen to be Nienna, Gandalf and Frodo (who thinks it is nightmares). Finally edited into comprehensible format.

I said I met her again, but that may be an exaggeration. Let me explain.

The conquest of Angband, though quick, was a bloody one, and I watched the commander of the fortress from afar. His fighting style was hauntingly familiar; I had thought only a student of mine could use such thrusts, such blows, such deathly precision. I am well and humbly aware of the fact that no one has ever rivalled me in the use of arms and none ever shall. But this black shadow came the closest. Yet our army was the stronger one, and swiftly we pushed him to retreat. I longed, then, to test my skills against his, but I think he was wise enough to know it would be the end of him, for he escaped into the very bowels of Arda, and we lost track of him. As it was, we were in a hurry to destroy the power of his master.

You might think this has nothing to do with Anna, but hear me out: You know I have good eyes. It was not difficult to discern the features of my enemy, for his helm had no visor. From beneath it flowed some stray curls of hair the colour of flames. And I saw his eyes. They were the a deep blue. The shape of his face also reminded me faintly of Anna.

I had no doubt I was looking at her son, and even less did I doubt the name of his father: Morgoth himself.

Yes, I can understand your doubt. It should be impossible for two ainur to have children between them. Yet Morgoth must have found a way, the evidence was plain as the light of the Trees in front of my eyes. Sauron, Anna's son. Gorthaur the Cruel, child of such a gentle maiden. Destroyer of Nations, born to a maker of beautiful things.

Yet I say I met her in him. Somewhere in those eyes I felt her presence. But I kept her secret, for I wished not to stain her fair name, nor did I think the information would be of any use to my superiors. And I was not fooled by my feelings; he was my enemy no matter who his mother had been.

I say 'had been', for I felt she was dead. Or rather, I felt she lived on in her son, and in him only. After all, she had not returned to us.


	4. Chapter Four: The Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another product of my Sauron-fixation, featuring theories about Ainur souls and behavior that could be interpreted as slash. Three Ainur tell a story to three silent listeners, who just happen to be Nienna, Gandalf and Frodo (who thinks it is nightmares). Finally edited into comprehensible format.

Nine-Finger!

Yes, of course I am dead - but how many times you have seen the dead walking? The Nine Riders. The Wight in the Barrow. And among your allies? Glorfindel. Gandalf. The Men of Dunharrow you heard of.

You won't see me walking, Nine-Finger. But you'll hear me speaking. In your nightmares. And you have no choice but to listen.

Do you think I was proud of myself when I escaped the army of the valar? Ashamed is what I was. It might please you to think of me as a rat, but rats, I imagine, take pride in hiding and that is something I have never done.

I did not betray my master, even when I feared he had betrayed himself and sided with the valar. It is true I did little but waited, but I was faithful in my wait.

And he came! His voice called us - for others were faithful, too - with the urgency of despair. I sent the balrogs to his aid and they overcame the ally that had dared to betray him. In my deepest heart I was jealous that he had confided in such a creature instead of me. Now he entered his realm without a word of thanks for all I had done to keep his servants at the ready. He had gained a priceless treasure: the Silmarilli. Now he crowned himself King of Arda and inserted the three jewels into his iron crown.

Was I jealous? Did I desire that crown upon my own head, did I yearn to touch the stones made of light? Not once, Nine-Finger, not once. You who betrayed your own may find it hard to believe, you who fell to the lure of a mere trinket compared to what the Silmarilli were! I never betrayed mine, I never let my enemies gain ground in my heart. I see you do believe me, Nine-Finger, I see how the knowledge pains you. Feel the finger you lost?

I had nine fingers too, you know, when I still had fingers. Thanks for that belong to the backstabber Isildur, not to my faithlessness. We are alike and yet not alike. In another wise I also had Nine that I called my Fingers sometimes, the fingers of the Black Hands... yes, the Wraiths... feel the cold in your shoulder?

You wake - yet you shall dream again...


	5. Chapter Five: The Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another product of my Sauron-fixation, featuring theories about Ainur souls and behavior that could be interpreted as slash. Three Ainur tell a story to three silent listeners, who just happen to be Nienna, Gandalf and Frodo (who thinks it is nightmares). Finally edited into comprehensible format.

Lúthien! No woman's name is more accursed to me, save Elbereth! Oh, that seducing elvish vixen, that moriquend scum, that web-weaving little spider! She and her mortal monster, shameful thieves, cowardly cheaters, spineless idiots!

And they get the highest praise of heroes! Oh, the folly of my enemies, and their vanity! One they took of my Three, and only one, remember that! And with it they took the doom of Doriath, but it was not a doom of my making. As ever, my enemies squabbled among themselves like greedy beggars fighting for a loaf of bread and dropping it to the dogs in the end! The sons of Feänor, their mightiest and noblest, they were the doom of Doriath!

Of men I curse Eärendil first after Tulkas, my brutal binder. Yet what was he but a refugée? He had no home to go back to. And so he abandoned his own sons. I never denounced the one I had.

And he never betrayed me. I know you have heard a different story, Nienna. You have listened to Eönwë's bragging.


	6. Chapter Six: The Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another product of my Sauron-fixation, featuring theories about Ainur souls and behavior that could be interpreted as slash. Three Ainur tell a story to three silent listeners, who just happen to be Nienna, Gandalf and Frodo (who thinks it is nightmares). Finally edited into comprehensible format.

That glorious day! My new friend Eärendil sailing the skies like a benevolent dragon, the army of the West - Vanyar, Noldor, Teleri and Maiar all united, our banners bright as made of light. We shook the mountains, we drained the sea of our enemies dry of their strenght, we were a terror, a power, a fire.

Olórin, that day had my name written on its face. Mine and Eärendil's. Among thousands of other valiant names, naturally. But I was the one to chase Morgoth down beneath the fortress of Thangorodrim and to catch him cornered.

He had but one defender.

But it was the best one he could have. The one with Anna's eyes. The one with fiery hair and pale skin, and a gold-circled helm. With armor blackened by stray dragonfire, with a dented sword and a beaten shield. The one who fought as if taught by me. The one with Anna in his blood.

It was the most exciting battle of my life. He was almost my equal.

I... felt sorry for him. He noticed I had missed a chance to slay him.

'This is no practice fight!' He shouted.  
'I know. You cannot win.'  
'I cannot lose.'

I was just about to hit his neck, when I stumbled. Morgoth had moved from his corner, kicked at my feet and faced me now.

'You do not want him.' He said. Then he spoke to his son.  
'Go! This is an order.' My opponent disappeared up a tunnel.

I knew they would not fight fair, and that Sauron might return for a suprise attack at my back.

I fought Morgoth then, and I cut his feet from under him.

Sauron did come back, and begged me for mercy. I swear I would have given him anything in my power, but all I had was a command to come West for trial. He did not trust me.  



	7. Chapter Seven: The Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another product of my Sauron-fixation, featuring theories about Ainur souls and behavior that could be interpreted as slash. Three Ainur tell a story to three silent listeners, who just happen to be Nienna, Gandalf and Frodo (who thinks it is nightmares). Finally edited into comprehensible format.

It seems I came to interrupt an interesting dream. Your parents, I presume. Must have been a traumatic exprerience, losing them like that.

I know.

You are about to hear a secret.

I had parents, too. I am not Ainu, but Ainur-born. The valar never figured out the Ultimate Sacrifice - soul transfer. Two Ainur can have a child, if one of them dies to give it a soul. My soul is my mother's, and my father is Melkor.

He named me his heir. That is why I had to survive, even humbling myself in false apologies and pleas for mercy. I had to live on, to grow strong.

To become Annatar, the generous Lord of Gifts.

I sought to make men more than men, elves more than what they were.

To create a power independent from the West.

Thus did I become the Lord of the Rings of Eregion.

Númenor became jealous and warred against me, but my diplomacy allied me to the king who had imprisoned me.

My revenge was sweet, more so because the Valar were its instrument. I lost my fair form, the memory of my mother, at the fall of Númenor.

But her soul lived on.

Many stories you have heard of me, Nine-Finger, but there are some I yet must tell.

I hated many, but some I loved as well.

I love Melkor.

I loved the man whom I named 'the Mouth of Sauron'.

And I could have loved you.

I could have.

Remember Annatar when the wind is east.

Remember the Soul of Anna.

What do you dream now?  


_A woman, so fair, the wind in her hair, the sun gave a light so fiery and bright and her eyes were blue as the sky..._ **Oh, the pain, the guilt. Is this how he was built?**


End file.
